


Rough & Tumble

by eyepatchempress



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beard Kink, F/M, Smut, holiday parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9968315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyepatchempress/pseuds/eyepatchempress
Summary: "How did you lose your arm?" It was a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, but the eventual result was anything but simple.





	1. I

Taking a rare moment to relax, you sat against a wall outside, letting the metal wall gently warm your body. It felt warm even through the coarse fabric of your training uniform. The sun had beat down relentlessly the entire day, without a single cloud in the sky. Now with the sun setting, the ground was starting to cool off.

The last few rays reflected off of Peacekeeper, sending light scattering into your eyes. McCree was practicing drawing the gun and holstering it in an elaborate way, just going over the motions without firing. Lena sat beside you, which wasn't surprising, but she was reading something on her phone and not paying attention to anything else. You were tempted to return inside and get something to read, as all you had with you was your pager that relayed only internal communications for security reasons.

McCree adjusted his hat with his left hand, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes as he practiced. He had met you outside of the base, either intentionally or not. He had arrived outside a couple minutes after Lena and you, but hadn't said a word since a court hello.

Again, you debated returning back inside, but the sun on your skin felt too good. Plus, you didn't mind watching McCree, who was standing ten feet in front of you, practicing. Currently, he was facing away from you, but occasionally he would turn around and change position like he was actually shooting something.

"McCree," you spoke for the first time, catching his attention. He holstered the gun in an over the top fashion, and looked at you from over his shoulder. You held a hand in front of you, shielding your eyes. "How did you lose your arm?" 

"A couple of back to back bad decisions," he said vaguely, shrugging. He faced forward again but didn't take out Peacekeeper out of its holster.

"Did you lose anything else?" Maybe you were wrong, but you thought you could sense an invitation lingering in the air.

McCree turned around completely and he took a few measured steps towards you. You tried to match his gaze, but the sun was almost directly behind him and he wasn't close enough to block it out.

"I'm in fine functioning order, if that's what you're asking." A hand landed on his belt and rested there, with the thumb framing the gaudy golden belt buckle he almost always wore. His fingers were shamelessly focusing your attention away from his face. 

"In fact, I wouldn't mind showin' you some time," he said, his voice sinfully low and almost like a purr. You turned away from him, hoping you could hide how deep red your cheeks were.

"Oi," Lena snapped out, glaring at the cowboy. "McCree, leave the poor girl alone."

McCree brushed the comment off with sly smile, and walked towards the sole door back inside the base. When you heard the door slide open, you expected him to continue into the base and leave you to think over what he had offered, but he paused and leaned on the door frame.

"I can assure ya, I won't leave ya disappointed." And with that final parting comment, he slipped away and left you with only Lena. The sun cast its last light on the two of you as it dipped below the horizon.

"Aww (name), don't worry about him!" She waved the hand that didn't have her phone in it dismissively. "I mean, unless you like him." She gave an exaggerated wink.

"McCree?" You had to restrain yourself from barking it out. "No way, he's pure trouble."

"Alright, whatever you say," Lena shrugged, "but some girls like that."

Leaving you to think about what she had said, Lena jumped up onto her feet with her usual dramatic flair and waved goodbye. You waited with the setting sun for another few minutes before you turned in as well.

\---

Since the day you had spoken with McCree outside, you couldn't help but notice him more often. Like it or not, you had gained the ability to pick him out of a crowd with ease, let it be the battlefield or the dining hall. What Lena had said that night outside the base had been at the back of your mind nagging you and you had started to think that she wasn't wrong.

Just like you were thinking right now. You were sitting across from McCree as you both picked at your meals in relative silence, but you snuck glances at him when you thought he wasn't looking.

"Are you wearing that shirt for me? Because I'm certainly enjoying it." His voice broke the relative silence of the late evening cafeteria. No one else was at the table except for you and him. You almost always sat beside Lena and Hana, but you didn't see either of them when you entered the cafeteria today.

Not quite understanding what he had said, you glanced down at your shirt, unable to remember what exactly you were wearing. It was a simple white shirt, the type you usually wore on your down time underneath a uniform jacket. You glanced back up at McCree, almost confused until you gave you a grin that couldn't be described as anything other than shit eating.

"Maybe I am," you said, after a prolonged hesitation. You decided to make the best of it and to take his comment in stride, but you couldn't help the way your lips from curving up into a slight smile.

"Really now," he said, seeming more amused than anything else, but regardless he set the utensil in his hand back down on the tray, next to the plate. "Next you're gonna tell me ya like me as much as I like you."

"Well, maybe I do." The words slipped out faster than you could stop them. Not only the words caught in your throat, but your heart caught as well. You could hear your own heartbeat and you wondered if he could hear it too.

McCree groaned and leaned back on the bench, physically recoiling from what you had said. "Darlin', yer killin' me out here. Could ya just put me outta my misery? Take me behind the barn and shoot me already."

You were caught off guard by his demeanor, as he seemed genuine about the situation despite all his exaggeration. His usual bravado was all but gone, as was yours. You had had the courage, or maybe the stupidity to answer him earlier, but now you barely had the nerve to say another word.

"No, uh, McCree, it's not like that at all," you managed to choke out. You spun the fork in the air as if you were trying to work through your words. You couldn't keep eye contact, or even anything close. "I like you."

Without a pause, McCree let out a long whistle and leaned in towards you, over his tray. You glared at him but he just kept grinning. You could feel the people sitting at other tables staring at you from across the cafeteria.

"Ya know, I've been waitin' a helluva long time to hear those words come from your lips." McCree scratched his beard and looked, well at least to you, a little flustered. "Now, what do ya say we get outta here?" Evidently he recovered quickly, as an awfully lecherous grin broke out on his face.

"You can't be serious," you said, understanding instantly what he meant. "McCree, we barely know each other."

"S'alright," he shrugged although he was still smiling. “Didn't mean to make ya uncomfortable."

"Oh McCree, it's not you, I just-" you were lost for words, and your mouth felt drier than the Mojave. "I haven't done this in awhile," you croaked. This entire situation was ridiculous, like something out of a dream, but not the good kind. Rather, the kind of dream were you embarrass yourself so badly that you can't look at the person the next morning.

"Now don't you worry yourself for a minute," McCree said as smooth as butter, completely returning to his usual self. He took your left hand in his right hand. It was warm, and you found it reassuring how nicely it fit over yours. "I'll treat ya right, don't you worry now."

And with that McCree started to stand up, taking you with him by the hand until you resisted. You pulled your hand away from him and sat back down at the table.

"Jeez darlin'," he said as he sat back down awkwardly, "I got the feelin' we ain't on the same page here." You picked your fork back up in your hand and fidgeted with it.

"Um," you hummed, scratching your fork on your plate. "I'd like to finish dinner first." Being a member of Overwatch meant you needed to appreciate every ounce of food and you weren't going to pass up dinner of all meals, even if you weren't exactly sure what it was. But you felt like it was a petty complaint and like you shouldn't be complaining at all.

"Mmm," he hummed, processing what you had just said. "I like the way you think. Energy for later."

"Oh, McCree, I didn't me-" You began to say, before he cut you off.

"Yours or mine?"

"I have a roommate," you said, a little too sharply.

"Well that settles it darlin'," he said, before he began to wolf down his meal faster than seemed possible or healthy. Between bites, he would look up at you, checking whether or not you were still there. As you chewed your food, your mind couldn't help but wander. You thought you knew him well, having been partnered with him on more missions than you could count, but you weren't sure if you really knew him.

But in hindsight, was this incident in the cafeteria the first time something like this has happened? No, of course it wasn't, but for some reason you couldn't see that until just now, as you pushed the last of your meal around the plate.

There had been the time when McCree had offered to teach you how to disarm someone more safely. As he tried to show you the technique, you had stumbled backwards, tripping over your own feet. As smooth as butter, McCree had caught you and brought you back up to your feet. His hands lingered on you for an instant too long, but you didn't think to complain.

And there had also been the time when you had been practicing your aim in the shooting range and McCree had come up behind you, out of nowhere and offered you some advice. It was good advice, but you had the sense now that he had wanted to get close to you.

And surely, there had been other times that you'd recognize now if you bothered to look back. But even without thinking back, you knew that you couldn't deny you definitely felt something towards him. Now, it hurt how painfully oblivious you had been to it all.

McCree pulled you into his room roughly, almost yanking you. If it were anyone else it would have bothered you, but McCree was perpetually a little rough, even during training. But you would be lying if you said you didn't like it a little.

His room was no different than yours, other than the fact that his was a single room. You found it a little eerie, seeing a room so similar and dissimilar to your own at the same time. His belongings, however disorganized and strewn about, were the only sign that it was even his. An ashtray, something you could only remember our grandfather ever needed, sat half full of ash on his side table.

He took his hat off, grabbing it from the top, and set it down onto the boring, generic desk that every room in the base probably had. You stood beside the closed door, unmoving and unspeaking.

"You okay darlin'?" McCree spun around to look at you.

"I'm a little nervous," you confessed.

"Nervous?" he asked, stepping towards you. His fingers grazed your cheek and moved down onto your chin. He tilted your eyes away from the floor and up at him and your eyes met. "Sweetie, I ain't gonna hurt ya."

"Now, may I?" He tucked a bundle of hair behind your ear.

"Please," you breathed, barely above a whisper. He backed you up against the wall, slowly and methodically. With his hands on your hips he pushed himself right up against you, and his lips ghosted the shell of your ear. You expected him to say something, but all you heard was a low rumble as he rolled himself against you. He was incessant and you loved it, even as he pushed you into the wall.

"Oh, McCree, I..." The words fell out of your mouth, almost meaningless.

"It's Jesse, darlin'," he corrected you.

"Jesse," you breathed, just managing to hold yourself back from something more lewd.

"Oh." McCree let out a gasp. You didn't know any man could make such a content noise that was simultaneously so dirty. "You make it sound as sweet as sugar," he whispered into the area between your ear and neck.

"Jesse," you said, letting out a deep breath as his beard scraped across your neck. A boat cutting through the ocean’s waves, his beard left a red trail as it was dragged across your skin.

"Yeah." It was half an answer and half a simple affirmation to you that he was still there. You didn't have to be reminded though; you were hyper aware of his excitement pressing into you. "You like that or somethin'?"

"Maybe a little," you confessed, turning away from him. It was embarrassing how worked up you were, and you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about what he was thinking of you.

"Aww sugar, ain't no shame in that," he said, tilting his head to catch your eyes. He was genuine and you were put at ease just having him look at you like that.

"McCree, I think you're functioning very well," you blurted out, gripping the red albeit lightly sunbleached fabric of his shawl. His rough bristle scratched your forehead as he let out a laugh.

"Oh sweetie, you haven't seen nothin' yet," he growled, sending a reverberation down your spine. "But don't ya worry, we still got plenty of time."

McCree managed to pry himself away from you for long enough to unwrap his shawl from around his shoulders. And he continued getting undressed as you started to as well, following his lead.

"We could've been doin' this for months, y'know," he said, giving you a wolfish grin.

"We should have been." No sooner than had you said those words, McCree stopped getting undressed and spun around to face you. He snapped his fingers, the ones on his natural hand, and pointed a single one at you.

"Darlin', that sounds real good coming from you,” he said smoothly. You stifled a laugh - what a situation you had found yourself in. The two of you had gotten undressed with no real reason or rhyme, a sock here, a shirt there, and you couldn't help but find the humour in it all.

Neither of you said or did anything, utterly frozen. That was, until McCree charged towards you and took you in his arms. The cool steel of his hand pressed against your skin as he pulled the very same white shirt he had loved on you earlier over your head.

"I'd whistle, but you didn't like it the last time."

You shot him a look, and he leaned in and gave you a quick kiss. It took you by surprise and you let out a short gasp although weren't proud of it. McCree was working on his belt with his mechanical hand while the other, natural hand roamed across your body.

"I've always hated that thing," you said, nodding at the belt buckle.

"You can take it off me whenever you want, don't you worry." Somehow, whenever McCree said things like that, they didn't come off sleazy or slimy like they might from someone else, and instead it was purely endearing. Your body seemed to agree despite how flustered you were, but you weren't sure if you should let it do what it wanted to do or not. You considered stopping your leg from jutting forward and grinding into him, but it occurred to you too late.

"Still nervous?" he asked, obviously catching onto exactly how you were feeling. You shook your head, but you were careful to keep your thigh moving, however gently it was touching him.

"That's good." He nodded slowly, and let out a long and lingering breath, like he was letting out the smoke after having taken a long drag on a cigar.

"Sugar, I'm not quite sure how much longer I can keep this up," he groaned. "D'ya mind?" he asked, but before waiting for a reply, his hands slid down your body and rested on the back of your thighs briefly before he pulled you off of the ground and into the air. You cursed, like a reflex, and you felt a dull ache in your arching feet.

"Didn't mean to scare ya," he apologized with a chuckle as he walked you towards the bed. As he set you down your toes tingled, not knowing exactly when you would land on the bed. It was as careful as he could manage, but the moment after you touched the sheets he followed you onto the bed.

The sheets were cool, but not as cold as McCree's mechanical arm gripping onto your thigh as he moved down your body, but you hardly noticed either of those things. Instead, you were more focused on how McCree was roughing up your stomach with beard and the messy way he was doing it. It was warm where his mouth was leaving frankly uncoordinated kisses, but even that wasn't enough; you wanted all of him, and right away.

But thankfully, it wasn't long before he gave a final sloppy kiss on your hipbone before he bit onto the thin strip of fabric that rested against your skin and slowly dragged it down your body. When he had pulled it far enough down that he was content, he slipped two rugged fingers inside of you. They slid into you with barely any resistance, and an involuntary shudder ran up your body when he spread them slowly. He was meticulous, and paid focused attention to each and every sound that left your mouth.

"Oh darlin', ya really like me, don't ya?" he said as withdrew his fingers from inside of you. The dim light made it difficult to see his face but you knew what he was doing when he brought his hand to his mouth.

"Yeah," he groaned, "I'd reckon you like me a lot."

"But you like me a lot too, right?" you asked, even though your voice wavered slightly.

"Course I do, what kinda question is that?"

"Well," you said, stretching the single word out until it was strong enough to be a full sentence, "why don't you show me?"

"Thought I was," he grumbled. He was a little confused, you could see it in his posture. His shoulders were set back and tensed, and that wasn't even addressing the look on his face.

"Oh no, I mean-" you started, but your voice failed you. The sliver of embarrassment that had been lingering reared up again, and you felt a kind of physical shift taking place with your body as you realized what kind of ridiculous situation you were in.

"Oh," he let out again, that perfectly heaven-sent growl. "I getcha now, don't ya worry yourself."

He let out a rumble that was verging on bestial, before crawling up on the bed. Everything about it was verging on desperate, from the way he held onto you, to the way he was breathing. Without an ounce of hesitation, he jolted up the bed and settled on top of you.

“What a view,” he said. Deciding that enough preparation had been done, McCree gradually pushed himself inside of you.

He was slow enough to allow you to adjust, but it was slow enough to drive you crazy. You had run out of patience an hour ago, and you were about to start whining when he started to move. You knew he knew exactly what he was doing, from the first backwards movement.

He listened to each of your muffled and stifled moans, using them as guide for the next drive forward. He wasn't precise but he was dedicated, and he found where you wanted him without too much trouble, although your hips certainly weren't completely useless in the matter.

And it continued, with McCree and you both striving to scratch the persistent metaphorical itch that needed to be dealt with. Your legs squirmed in the blankets of the bed, and you were worried that you were a little too close a little too quickly. McCree looked like he was doing alright, but you couldn't quite focus enough to know for sure. But McCree answered that for you when he opened his mouth to speak, not to grunt.

“Can I-” he started, with a huffy breath. “D’ya mind if I-”

McCree was having a hard time speaking, which was beyond out of character for him. You would have thought that he would talk through it, so you figured he must have been as out of practice as you were.

“Yeah,” you told him. “You're good, yeah.”

“Aww,” he purred, dragging it out far longer than he should have. “Yer too kind, darlin’.”

It took McCree a second to shift over to his new speed from the one, his hips rolling erratically until he had settled back down. It was then that you realized that it was far too much. Your nails dug sharply into his back, leaving small raw indents at the start of the trail that they would start to make as they continued to dig into his back. Writhing under him, there was a moment where you felt terrible for shredding his back up, but it disappeared with the next thrust he sent up into you.

There was no way that you could have noticed how close McCree was while you were trying desperately not to scream like you were being gutted, but after settling into his new pace, he became distinctly aware of how perfect you felt.

“Oh damn,” he cursed, shuddering. He tried to put it off for just a second, just half a second, but there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of that happening. It was an unstoppable force, and before he knew it, he was sputtering out cursed that you hadn't ever heard before. His last few jerks into you were enough to carry you through the end of your high, as if by some miracle.

With your neck destroyed and his back chewed up, the two of you slipped away from each other. Your legs were tangled with his, and your fingers had given up scratched down his back and were now settled in his hair. It was dampened in clumps but overall had a smooth texture. It was a shame he always had it hidden underneath his hat all the time.

"Can with do this again sometime?" he purred, running a hand through your already messy hair.

The smile you gave him was a better answer than any words.


	2. II

After that evening, you made an effort to meet up with him as much as possible, even though it was difficult with the two of you having schedules that were so different.  
And then it was winter before either of you knew it and along with the snow came the holidays.

Overwatch was made up of people from all across the world, and it was much too complicated to organize every single celebration especially when 'dealing with the villain of the week’ was a constant worry. As a result the holiday season with Overwatch meant a single large party in the dead of winter.

In order to have the party, a small and randomly selected group of members would stay on standby, in case of an emergency. You had been selected last year, and this year you had lucked out, but McCree hadn't.

Right now you were draped over a loveseat in one of the common rooms in the Gibraltar base, holding the phone to your ear. Normally you could video call or something along those lines, but McCree wasn't technically supposed to be communicating with anyone who wasn't on the mission, and so he had slipped you a burner phone on the sly.

"I shouldn't go. I'll volunteer and we can wait on standby together," you offered. "I know you guys just goof around anyway.”

"Darlin', you know I couldn't let you do that. I'll make it up to you properly, as soon as I can."

You argued light-heartedly for awhile, the whole time keeping an eye on the door. If Morrison caught you, you'd be more than dead, and if someone else caught you, well, you didn't want to owe anyone else a favour either. The first and only time you'd been caught was by Zarya, and you ended up giving her half your portion of protein each day for a full week and there was no way you'd ever willingly go through that again.

"Oh, gotta go darlin'," McCree interrupted abruptly, "I can't wait to see ya again, just a couple of weeks more, ain't too bad."

You wished him luck with the final stretch of the mission, and with that he was gone.  
You didn't hear from him at all after that, and you knew you wouldn't until after the holiday party. McCree had bad enough luck that he would be going directly from the mission to the small group that let the holiday party happen.

You let out a long sigh and slumped down further in the chair, feeling more than a little disappointed. This week was going to feel much longer than seven days, and that was only until the holiday party. McCree wouldn't return for at least another week after that.

Eventually by some miracle the holiday party arrived without too much suffering, and with it came the snow. The party snuck up on you, and it didn't seem to register with you until you walked into the cafeteria and you were immediately struck by the transformation that had taken place. The rows of metal tables had been pushed to the side of the cafeteria, and blue paper streamers had been hung around the room, and you didn't even have to see Mei to know that it was thanks to her. Gentle and neutral whites and silvers decorated the entire room, accented with touches of blues here and there. Mei was obviously the best to handle the winter celebration.

You surveyed the room, just to confirm who wasn't there. You didn't see Fareeha, Genji, Reinhardt, or, much to your chagrin, McCree. You didn't see Hanzo either, and while you didn't remember him being scheduled for the standby team, you wouldn't have been surprised to hear that he was keeping to himself again this year.

Almost everyone else was there, scattered around the room, in clumps of two or three. Hana and Lucio were playing beer pong, or rather juice pong, per Angela's request, and Ana was chuckling next to Morrison.

You made small talk with Mei as you watched the party, unable to focus. It bothered you how bothered you were that McCree wasn't there. You felt like you really shouldn't be that hung up over him, but you were and you couldn't help it. As Mei was dragged off by Lena somewhere to do something, you drifted off to the refreshment table.

On your way back from the alcoholic punch bowl that Angela was guarding from afar, a pair of hands found their way onto your hips, and you were pulled backwards. The cherry red punch sloshed in the plastic cup, dangerously close to the rim.

"Surprise," a low voice growled in your ear and instantly you recognized that voice with its distinct southern drawl.

"Jesse!" you nearly shouted, barely able to contain your excitement.

"The one and only," he said, his voice brimming with pride.

"I thought, but you said-"

"Hanzo is real bad at cards," he said, cutting you off.

"He is?" you couldn't help but ask. You couldn't imagine Hanzo not having a great poker face, him being the definition of stone-faced and all.

"Yeah, but that don't matter one bit. I'm here now, and that's all that matters." With his hands around your waist, he drew you closer and more firmly against him than the first time. He gave an appreciative hum. "I can't believe I've been missing out on this."

"How many have you had?" You knew him well enough to know that he was usually at least a bit more reserved than this, even if only a little.

"Aww, not that many darlin', don't you worry." He chuckled and took the cup of punch from your hand. Still behind you, he took a long drawn out sip over your shoulder before returning the cup to your hand. "Now," he said, his voice a low rumble, "how many have you had?"

"Not that many. You know we wouldn't still be here if I had had more."

"I ain't gotta clue whatcha mean," he said innocently, but even though you couldn't see him, you knew him well enough to know he was smirking.

"What I mean, Jesse," you replied slowly, tilting your head as far back as you could, "is that you'd be f-"

A sharp cough cut you off before you could finish what you were saying. Your head snapped forward so suddenly you were surprised you didn't get whiplash.

"Ms. Amari," said McCree, as smooth as always, even as his grip on you relaxed. "We were-"

Ana put a hand up.

"Not appropriate, Jesse." She was firm but not angry, which you were more than thankful for. The last thing you wanted right now was to be chewed out by Ana, whose 'I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed’ speeches were far worse than anything Morrison could come up with. "I understand you are both excited to see each other," Ana said, "but this is not the place."

"We were just leavin', don't ya worry." McCree tipped his hat in respect towards Ana, but with his other hand he directed you away from her. He let go of you after a moment and the two of you continued out of the cafeteria and into the hallway.

McCree was on your heels the entire walk down the hallway, although it was closer to a run than a walk. He grabbed at you, trying to pull you back towards him, all the while making a couple of half-hearted complaints. There was a "c'mon" as he reached to pull you into a washroom, and a "darlin' please" as you missed the door hallway that would have taken you to your room.

But there was no complaint when you hesitated for a less than a second outside the door to his room and instead there was only fumbling around to open the door and you being pushed back through it and into the room.

"Oh darlin', I've been waiting weeks to see ya," he groaned, tossing his hat across the room and onto the desk. He hadn't been wearing his shawl when he met up with you at the party, and you spotted it hanging on the back of the chair by the desk. His shirt was on the floor next to the bed, and because you didn't remember him taking it off, and you most definitely would have, he must have taken it off almost immediately as he entered the room behind you.

But now, he was half on top of you on the bed. His left hand, the cybernetic one, gripped your clothed thigh as he pushed up your shirt with the other hand.

"Weeks," he stressed. "Weeks just to see ya." He left a light kiss on your cheek as you turned your head away from him, and his bristle tickled your skin as you did.

"Only see me? You've done a lot of that already." You grinned teasingly, trying your best to pretend that the way his beard was scratching over your skin wasn't turning you on. 

"C'mon," he whined and suddenly your entire body felt boiling hot, and your palms felt sticky and damp. The humidity in the room had seemingly risen spontaneously to impossible levels. "I want ya real bad. I can't help myself no more."

"Then don't," you said casually, trying to egg him on. It worked and he lurched up the bed, taking your shirt off of you as he went. He buried himself in the base of your neck and you already knew you were going to have to wear turtlenecks for the next month. You could feel your neck bruising already, and on top of that he was scratching you as he made his way down, leaving a raw red trail.

"Jesse," you gasped, gripping his hair as he landed on your collarbone, "has your beard gotten longer?"

"Didn't think so," he said, as he started to fumble with his pants with the hand that wasn't groping you occasionally. He had had more practice than anyone could have admitted without shame, but as a result he was working on yours before you could knew what was happening.

"Alright," you said, but you couldn't shake the feeling that it must be at least a little longer. It was rough, and it felt so much better than anything you remembered, and the way that it scraped up your skin as he left sloppy kisses was driving you wild.

"Jesse, can you hurry up?" You held one hand on the back of his neck as he worried the soft skin of one of your breasts in your mouth. Not that you didn't appreciate what he was doing, but you would have appreciated him doing a little something more.

"Course I can darlin'," he said, letting his voice rumble into your skin. A warm hand slid between your legs immediately, as if it had been poised there for awhile, waiting for an opportunity. Expertly, it found exactly where it should be in no time at all, but you had something else in mind as you reached down your body and moved his hand aside, just pushing it back gently.

"I mean really hurry up," you told him, and you saw an immediate change on his face.

"Ya sure?" he asked. He tried not to say it too enthusiastically but when it came to this, and only this, he had a terrible poker face.

"Yes," you hissed, sounding much more desperate than you would have liked. But if your voice didn't give you away, your nails on his back surely would. They dug in a little deeper as he pushed into you, and you could already feel a warm burn.

You would mentally berate him for the first minute or so every time it happened like this, like it was his fault that he was so big. You would never vocalize anything though, as you were too busy digging your fingernails into his back as you waited for him to inch his way inside of you completely.  
But fuck, it burnt a little as you were stretched and stretched until he was what felt like impossibly deep inside of you.

"Y'all good?" He asked, even as he brushed up against you with his beard. Thank God for that beard, you thought, as he moved a little inside of you, adjusting himself. Your hands brought him closer towards you, drawing him closer against your neck, even as every piece of you was screaming that it was all just too much. You felt impossibly full, but it was bliss.

"Yeah," you breathed, and that's all it took before he started to drag himself back and forth inside of you. It was gradual at first, but he picked up his pace before settling at a near perfect speed.

"Sugar," he groaned, "yer too much fer me, I swear."

"Too pretty," he growled as his hips snapped forward. "And too goddamn tight."

You hardly noticed how tight his grip on you was, or how cold the hand was. But there was no way that you couldn't have noticed the other one, its calloused fingers rubbing around and around. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

"And ya look too good when yer under me," he growled, giving just a little more force.  
And McCree continued to speak, but he punctuated whatever incoherent mess was coming out of his mouth with short curses.

"Oh, darlin'," he said, gripping you a little more strongly than he had been half a second ago. "Goddamn, you're amazin'."

"No, don't you dare," you whined, not above sounding pathetic. As you said it, your body let you knew exactly how it was feeling. You loved this precise feeling exactly as much as you hated it. There was a complete lack of control and you were completely dependent on him, not that he had let you down before.

"Yer fantastic," he growled out, jerking into you just a little harder, in a desperate home run. You felt every muscle in his body tensing, and you admired how hard he was trying to maintain his composure.  
But all of a sudden, there it was. The release came over you in as wave of relief, and a part of you wanted to cry. It was too much for you, and it didn't let up as McCree continued to drive into you. But you could tell, thanks to an almost sinful amount of practice, that he was getting desperate.

"C'mon," he growled. His hands had an almost vice-like grip on you, seeking to get as close to you as possible. "Oh c'mon, please."

You whined his name, and there's not a doubt in your mind it's what he was looking for. He lets out a short curse along with your name before falling on top of you. He has a gentle weight, like he's at the exact point where he's not crushing you yet, but he's not far off.

"Oh darlin', I've missed ya so much," he said, moving to lie down next to you on the bed. "Absolutely perfect, I swear to God."

"And I love ya, ya know that?" he said, settling down besides you.

"I think you may have mentioned that once or twice before," you replied, smiling. He let out a deep and unfiltered laugh and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"But I love you too Jesse," you said, looking up him. He was grinning like idiot but you couldn't fault him; you probably looked exactly the same. 

He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead as he squeezed your shoulder.

\---

"It's only eight thirty, are we supposed to go back to the party?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about 70% happy with this, but I feel like it's time to let it go. Thank you so much for reading! ♥


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